In middle school, class was letting out and my best friend and I were walking to our buses. He had to stop by the music room to pick up his instrument to take home, so I told him “goodbye”.
I kept walking, turned around the corner and he popped out of another door with his instrument and startled me on purpose. We walked and talked for another minute and as I was walking away from him to get on my bus I told him “goodbye for good this time”.
That weekend he was killed in a car crash in front of his house, he was ejected and his family’s car rolled over him.
Now I relive that last interaction I had with him every once in a while. Definitely creepy.
When I was sixteen I was sitting at a table with my mom talking about life, musing on the afterlife and reincarnation.. The usual. I began to laugh and say “you know, I’m pretty sure I remember my past life”. This was about the time her face went pale. I asked her why.
That’s when she began to list all of the details of my silly past life which I always felt was just a recurring dream I must have. She told me how I was the youngest child in a family of poor travelers. How my crib was the top drawer of any dresser where we would sleep and my mother was a tall, bony, angry looking woman with her hair pulled high, always wearing a long dress. All the details I was about to tell her, for what I thought was the first time.
“How did you know all of that? I’ve never told you before!” I said.
“Because that isn’t the first time you’ve told me”, she said, “you told me that story many times when you were a baby, after you first learned to talk.”
“I don’t believe it!”
“And the worst thing…” she said with a dark brow, “was when I would come to play with you…and you would tell me your other mother was behind me.”
My wife and I just moved into a brand new house this past July. There are definitely creaks and weird nosies from the house settling. However, I had a buddy over one night. We all had got a little drunk and as we were going to bed, my buddy jokingly knocks on our bedroom door and asks if he can sleep in our bed because “there is a ghost in his room!”. “Go to bed Rodney!” I say.
The next day, after he went home, he told me his girlfriend asked him, “So, you called me last night?” He didn’t remember calling her, so he checked his phone and there was no record of any new outgoing calls. He told her that he didn’t call her, and she said, “That’s interesting, because I had a missed call last night from you, and a voicemail. Listen to this.” What came next was the weirdest thing ever.
It was this loud droning noise with lots of feedback and interferrance. Her phone would translate any voicemail into text, so while you heard this weird growling sound, the text message read, “HELP ME. HELP ME. ARE YOU THERE? HELP ME PLEASE!”